Venom
by JadedDragon4
Summary: COMPLETE! Donatello's skills are put to the test. Can he find the antidote that will save his brother, or will Raphael's death be on his hands? Rated M for language. PLEASE R/R!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: So sorry for not getting anything posted in awhile. This last month or so has been CRAZY, and this particular story hasn't been coming out so easily. So, hopefully you will all enjoy this one. Oh, and as always, I do not any part of TMNT . . . blah blah . . . and all that legal jargon. So, that's about it. As always, thanks in advance for reading (and reviewing smiley face)._

_Onward._

Chapter One

The night was filled with the sounds of fighting. Green limbs slashed through the air as the turtle brothers kicked and punched their attackers. The sounds of metal and wood, combined with grunting reverberated off buildings as their weapons sliced and spun.

Raphael breathed the night air deeply into his lungs as adrenaline pumped quickly through his veins.

He lived for this.

The adventure.

The rush of being a ninja.

The brothers had been out on a nightly patrol, and while jumping silently from roof to roof, had stumbled upon a group of Purple Dragons. The Dragons were attempting to hoist some stolen goods up onto the roof, in an effort to move them closer to their hideout without being seen by the police.

So naturally, the brothers had taken it upon themselves to teach the Dragons a lesson.  
Now, they were fighting feverishly on the roof, the unconscious bodies of the Dragons piling up.

Only 10 Dragons remained; a number significantly less than they began with. Leonardo was fighting off two at once, his katanas a blur of metal as he spun them around his head.

Donatello was across the roof, up on a slightly raised level, with three Dragons circling him slowly. His bo staff whirred, creating a hollow sound in the quiet night.

Raphael was fighting a lone attacker, his sais twirling menacingly in his hands. "Come on . . . just one little one? Where's the challenge in that?"

The Dragon charged, and Raph easily sidestepped him. Dropping low, he took the Dragon out at the knees, before jumping high into the air. With a loud _Kiai_ Raph spun twice and landed a solid kick to his challenger. The blow knocked the Dragon back into the hard roof, and he remained still.

With a sneer, Raph spun his sais rapidly in his hands before sliding them back into his belt.

"Yo, bro! Help me out over here!"

Michelangelo had four Dragons advancing on him slowly from a dark part of the roof. His nunchaku spun lazily by his side, almost in anticipation.

Raph easily flipped over to his youngest brother.

"Hey man . . . what a surprise to see you here." Astonish dripped humorously from Mikey's words, yet he barely took his gaze from the impending attackers as Raph landed quietly by his side.

"Yeah, yeah." Raph growled low under his breath. "So, what do you feel like today? A little over-the-head throw diversion? Or perhaps, 'now you see me, now you're dead?'"

Mikey deeply pondered the suggestions, continuously keeping an eye on the advancing enemies. "Hmmm. . . You know, dude, those are all excellent suggestions. I may even have to keep some of them in mind . . . However, I haven't had a good slingshot in awhile."

Raphael grinned excitedly as he grabbed a hold of Mikey's wrists. Spinning around to gain momentum, he finally let go and slingshot Mikey into the group of Purple Dragons. The Dragons flattened like bowling pins.

Mikey landed softly on his feet and raised his arms high above his head. "Woo-hoo!! Michelangelo wins!"

Raph rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation. Ignoring Mikey's celebration dance, he turned his head slightly over his shoulder and froze. A Purple Dragon was standing only a few yards away, a pipe-like object at his lips, pointed directly at his rejoicing brother.

Before he had any time to react, the Purple Dragon took a deep breath and expelled the air through the tube. Raph watched in horror as an object flew out of the end of the cylinder and headed toward Mikey.

"Mikey, move!"  
Raphael raced the short distance to his youngest brother. Just as Raph's hands connected with Mikey's shell, he felt a small sting on the back of his left shoulder.

Michelangelo's head snapped with the force of Raph's tackle as he fell painfully to the ground. Wincing, he looked over his shoulder to see the source of his attack.

Raphael was standing near, but he wasn't looking at Michelangelo. Instead, he was looking at his shoulder. A small needle, topped with a yellow puff of feathers, was stuck into his thick skin. The yellow contrasted greatly against his green skin, even in the poor light.

Raph stared at it in disbelief.

Immediately, Mikey was to his feet. Quickly, he looked around for any nearby attackers. When there were none, he rushed over to Raph.

Reaching around his brother, he fisted the pointed spear and quickly pulled it out of Raph's shoulder.

Raph winced.

Scowling, he turned to Mikey. "Well, geez Mikey . . . would it kill you to try and do something gently? How many shoulders you think I got?"

Mikey ignored his comment and grinned back at him, lighthearted. "No problem, bro."

Suddenly, the scowl disappeared from Raph's face and was replaced with a blank expression. His eyes glazed slightly and he blinked, hard. Shaking his head softly, he swayed.

Michelangelo grabbed Raph's arm to steady him.

Raphael gripped Mikey's forearm. "Ah shit . . ." He swallowed thickly. "This stuff works fast."

His voice slurred slightly and sounded distant.

As his eyes rolled momentarily and fluttered against his cheeks, he knew exactly what was going to happen.

"It's okay, bro . . . I got you." Mikey used all of his weight to brace Raph.

Raph clung to him like a life line as he felt his knees buckle.

"God . . . I hate . . . this . . .feeling." Raph was breathing heavier now as he fought to stay on his feet.

"I know, bro . . ." Gently, Mikey slowly began to lower him to the ground.

Raph didn't put up a fight. Instead, he allowed Michelangelo to guide him to a lying position on the ground.

From across the roof, Leonardo turned his attention from his final attacker just in time to see Michelangelo carefully lower Raphael to the ground. Instantly, his heart beat quickened and his adrenaline level rose. With a swift flourish of his katana, his enemy doubled over and crumbled to the ground.

Not bothering to wipe his blades, Leo sheathed his sword as he quickly checked his surroundings. Donatello was about 30 feet away, diligently fighting the last two Purple Dragons. Seeing that Donny had a handle on his attackers, Leo rushed over to Raph and Mikey.

Raph was lying on the ground, fighting to keep his eyes open. They fluttered and rolled as he attempted to communicate. However, his words came out thick, slurred, and slightly mumbled.

Kneeling next to Raph, Leo gently touched his face. "What happened?"

A brief flash of anger illuminated Raph's features. "B-bastards . . . shot . . . me . . ." He struggled to get the simple sentence out, and the effort caused him to erupt into a coughing fit.

Leo's heart plummeted in his chest. Immediately, his hands began to frantically search for any sign of a bullet hole or blood. He only ceased when Mikey gripped his arm.

"Not with a gun, bro. With this." Mikey held his hand out, the small needle resting in the center of his palm.

Leo picked it up gingerly and examined it closely.

As he fingered the yellow feathers, Raph mumbled again. "Wait'll I gettup . . . I'll kick all've . . .their asses . . ."

Mikey grinned and chuckled inwardly at Raph's sullen words. Raph breathed heavily as he attempted to stay alert. However, his efforts were rapidly slipping away as his eyes rolled dangerously.

"Don't fight it, buddy." Mikey's touch was light on Raph's shoulder.

"What's going on?" Donny's breathing was labored as he dropped to his knees at Raph's side, next to Leo.

"They got him with this." Leo held out the small spear.

Taking his eyes from Raphael, Donny turned to Leo. His eyebrows furrowed as he carefully took the object and studied it. He looked carefully at the point before bringing it close to his nose and smelling it.

Finally, he shrugged. "I won't be able to say until I can inspect it closer, but it looks like a typical sedative. Pretty basic . . . it'll probably just knock him out for awhile. We'll just have to keep our eye on him."

With the precision of a doctor's skilled hands, Donny leaned over Raphael. Carefully, he checked his pulse. When he was satisfied, he gently stretched one of Raph's eyelids open further and stared into his brother's pupil.

Raph attempted to push Donatello off of him, yet the result was more of a shallow swat. "Gettoff 'vme 'onnie. 'm fine . . ." His voice was thick and slurred.

Donatello ignored him and continued his examination.

Abruptly, Raph received his second wind. Pushing up on his elbows, he struggled to push himself into a sitting position. "'m gonna kill'em . . . where're they?"

Donny laid his hands on both sides of Raph's collarbone and gently pushed him back down. "They're all gone now. You need to rest."

"Yeah, Raph. You're going to get a really great nap!" Mikey's voice was upbeat as he laughed.

Raph's scowl instantly wiped the grin from Mikey's face. However, Raph didn't fight Donny's gentle pressure. Instead, he laid down again, his eyes glazing over as the adrenaline disappeared from his system.

"They're all gone now . . . but that doesn't mean that they won't come back." Donny's voice was low as he spoke to Leonardo. "We need to get him out of here before any more trouble shows up."

Leo glanced over his shoulder at the randomly scattered bodies of their defeated enemies and nodded. "You're right . . . we gotta get him back to the Lair."

Leo leaned over Raphael and tapped his cheek lightly. "Raph? . . . Raph? Open your eyes pal."

Raphael's eyelids felt like they were being weighed down by a pound of bricks. Very slowly, he blinked them open and tried to focus on his older brother.

"That's right, bro." Leo smiled down at Raph. "We're gonna get you home, but we need you to try and help. Can you do that?"

His eyelids heavy laden again, Raph swallowed heavily as he groggily swiveled his head up and down.

"Good . . . good. Mikey, grab his other arm. I'm going to run ahead and make sure the coast is clear."

Raphael's body felt like lead as the drugs continued to work through his system. He groaned loudly as Michelangelo and Donatello reached down, slung his arms over their shoulders, and pulled him to his feet.

Leaning heavily on his brothers, he shuffled his feet mechanically, stumbling every so often. Every time his knees buckled, Donny and Mikey took the brunt of his weight, readjusted their grips, and continued their struggled path forward.

His head bobbed and jerked as unconsciousness began to tunnel his vision. He grit his teeth and tried to remain calm, but with each dragging step, his body became more heavy and his eyes refused to stay open. Finally, darkness overtook him, and he allowed his head to drop onto his plastron.

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It was approaching midnight by the time the brothers reached the Lair. They were sweating heavily under the burden of Raphael's dead weight.

He had tried his hardest to stay conscious, but as the drugs flowed through his system, it was a fleeting battle. Before they were able to get to the edge of the roof, Raph's steps had moved more infrequently and his head finally dropped toward his chest.

Immediately, Leonardo had turned back and quickly picked up Raph's legs. Slowly, they had made their way down the fire escape and into the darkened streets, being wary to stay covered. Finally, they had made it to a manhole cover and had dropped down into the murky familiarity.

Now, they carried him to his room and laid him gently into bed. Leo covered him tightly with a blanket as Donny checked his pulse and pupils once more.

Satisfied, he pulled the blanket up to Raph's chin and touched his face gently.

"He'll be alright, won't he?" Mikey's voice shook slightly.

Donny turned toward him and grinned. "Yeah buddy. He'll be fine. He's just got to sleep it off."

"How long will that take?"

Donny shrugged. "I don't know, pal. A few hours? A day? It really just depends on how quickly the drugs move through his system and wear off."

Mikey nodded slowly.

Donny patted him on the shoulder. "C'mon . . . let's let him rest."

Mikey allowed himself to be directed toward the door. Michelangelo and Donatello crossed the threshold first, but before Leo walked into the hallway, he took one last look at his unconscious brother. Then, he sighed silently, flipped off the light, and gently shut the door behind him.

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Raphael stirred, moving slightly in his sleep. Slowly, with his eyes still closed, he became aware of consciousness. His head throbbed, and he dug his head deeper into his pillow.

Finally, he took a deep breath and cracked an eyelid open. It was dark, and he was thankful. A slim ray of light streamed under his door and created ghastly shadows on the wall. He looked around the room, but a soupy haze filled his head.

Turning carefully onto his back, he stopped abruptly as a wave of nausea his him. Breathing deliberately, he forced the bile that threatened from his lips to settle back into the depths of his stomach.

Taking controlled breaths, the events of the brother's recent fight flooded back into his subconscious.

The sharp sting as the needle penetrated his thick skin.

How quickly the drugs worked, causing his body to feel like lead, thick and laden.

How difficult it was to form coherent thoughts, words, sentences . . .

Shuffling his feet mechanically as his two brothers held his weight.

He couldn't remember much past the perimeter of the roof. He didn't remember dropping down into the sewers or working his way through the twists and turns to the Lair.

He definitely didn't remember getting to his room, lying down, or being covered with the thick blanket that was now disheveled at the base of the bed, by his feet.

Was he still walking then? Attempting to communicate? Or, were his brothers carrying him.

He scowled in the darkness at the thought. He hated the idea of his brothers carrying him. It made him feel weak. Like he wasn't able to support himself.

Even _with_ the drugs coursing through his veins.

Taking a breath and holding it, he pushed himself up on his elbows, fully expecting the wave of nausea that flowed up from his gut. His gut felt like it was on fire, and it took him longer to force the feeling back down.

His breathing was shallow, and his face felt slightly flushed as he fully sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed. Instantly, he room spun violently around him, and he screwed his eyes shut.

He deeply filled his lungs a few times and mentally prepared himself to stand. He could hear that his brothers were in the living room, and he'd be damned if he looked weak or flushed before them.

Composed, he finally pushed himself to a standing position, yet immediately doubled over in pain as his gut erupted in new, painful flames. Gasping, his hands on his knees, it took all of his strength to settle his gag reflexes.

Finally, he was able to push himself vertical and take a shaky step forward.

With each sluggish step toward his door, Raphael felt stronger. The nausea was beginning to dull and was replaced with an intense, insatiable thirst. Shuffling his feet forward, he finally made it to his door and out into the hallway.

His brothers were lazily sitting around the living room, as an old western played out on the television. Michelangelo was laughing loudly at the antics of one of the cowboys in the show.

Donatello looked up in exasperation from the gadget he was examining. "Mikey, would you mind keeping it down for just a bit? I really need to concentrate."

Mikey squeezed his lips together and mimed zipping them shut with his fingers and locking them with an imaginary lock at the corner of his mouth.

Donny looked back down at the gizmo in his hands once more and sank deeply into his work. He had barely turned it over, however, when Mikey's laugher rang out in the Lair again.

Donny snapped his head up and glared at his brother, causing Mikey to immediately snap his mouth shut again.

Leonardo ignored his brothers as he calmly turned the page of the newspaper that he was reading.

Raphael remained against the wall, his fingers lightly pressing against the cold surface, helping him to stay upright and poised.

Donny continued to glare at Mikey, ensuring that he keep his mouth shut this time. Satisfied, he finally turned his eyes from his youngest brother. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Raphael's form against the wall.

Immediately, his anger toward Michelangelo turned to excitement. "Raph! You're up!"

Leo dropped the paper loudly onto his lap and turned, a smile stretched on his face. Mikey mimicked Leo and turned as well, a wide grin covering the majority of his face.

"How long have I been out?" His voice didn't sound like his. It was rough and groggy.

"Geez . . . what has it been?" Donny looked toward Leo and then at the clock. "Almost ten hours?"

Stunned, Raph let the information sink in. Once again, his mind attempted to trace the hours back. But, just as before, his memory only traveled as far as the rooftop.

"How are you feeling?" Donny's voice shook him from his thoughts.

Raphael swallowed thickly before attempting to answer. "Thirsty." Immediately, Mikey jumped to his feet and ran toward the kitchen. The sound of running water could be heard.

"That's totally normal." Don's voice was professional. "You see, the drugs absorbed the moisture in your system, leaving you dehy—"

Raph waved his hand to cut off his brother. His head still throbbed, and he rubbed the heel of his hand heavily across the deep scowl that was scrawled across his forehead, shutting his eyes in pain. "Jesus, Don. Seriously . . . enough with the medical mumbo-jumbo. I don't really care."

Donatello shut his mouth as Michelangelo came from the kitchen, a full glass of water in his hand. Raph reached for it, and drank from it greedily, emptying it in three solid gulps.

Leonardo leaned over to Donny. "Good to see he's feeling like his old self, huh?"

Donny gave Leo a half-smile. "Yeah, you're telling me." Clearing his throat, Donny pressed his luck by talking to Raph again. "So, except for the thirst, how else are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." Raph's voice was gruff, a very clear indicator that the conversation was over.

However, he remained silent of the throbbing in his head and the continuous waves of nausea that rocked deep in his abdomen. Instead, he credited it to the dehydration and lack of food.

Although the tension in the room had risen drastically, Mikey stayed cheerful. "Yo, bro. Did you want any more water?"

Raphael nodded his head carefully and handed the empty glass back to Mikey. Mikey turned and disappeared into the kitchen once more.

Taking a deep breath, Raph calmed his stomach and took a few tentative steps forward. Refusing to show weakness, he took his hand from the wall and walked, strong and upright toward the couch.

Just as he sat down next to Leo, Mikey came back with his water. Raph's stomach was churning violently, and he drank this glass much slower, this time allowing some of the water to settle before his next drink. This seemed to work and he settled back to watch the western that was droning on the television.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Three days had passed since Raphael had regained consciousness.

The brothers had returned to their normal, everyday routines.

They spent their time practicing in the dojo, meditating, working around the Lair, and patrolling the rooftops at night.

The brothers had moved on with their lives. The recent fight had become a distant memory, not significant enough to remember, let alone talk about.

Or so they thought.

As the days continued, Raph struggled more.

He was exhausted, and when he wasn't working, he was sleeping. Yet, no amount of sleep ever seemed to be enough.

A constant migraine throbbed sharply between his eyes.

He felt flushed, yet his skin was clammy.

He felt moody and irritated. Even more than usual. He was quick to snap, and the smallest things were beginning to set him off.

He ate, but only because he had to. His stomach continued to writhe and churn violently. He forced himself to drink, only to keep himself hydrated.

Refusing to let his brothers see him in his weakest state, he pushed himself during practice and while patrolling, never letting his guard down. But, as the days went by, he found it more and more difficult to keep up.

A few times during recent practices, Donny had caught Raph leaning heavily against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Immediately, his expression showed concern and he moved closer to his brother.

"Hey, man. You okay?"

Straightening hastily, Raph looked annoyed. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm fine." His voice was cold.

Donny flinched slightly at the bite in his words. Yet, he accepted the curt answer, and nodding, backed away.

Donny turned and walked away. Raphael glared at his shell, unsure of where this aggression was coming from.

Donny had never done anything but help, so why treat him like this?

Ignoring his nagging conscience, Raphael let the anger engulf him as he moved back toward the practice mat.

He would prove to Donny that he was alright.

Leaving Raphael, Donny made his way over toward the punching bag where Leonardo was practicing his form. Grabbing the other side of the punching bag, Donny held it in place for Leo. Leo nodded his thanks and continued to punch and kick the bulky object.

Suddenly, he noticed his brother's face, and his punches ceased. "Hey, Don. What's wrong?"

Donatello snapped from his thoughts and turned his eyes to meet Leo's. "Has Raph been acting weird to you?"

"What?" Leo laughed and gave the bag a sharp jab. "He always acts weird."

Donny shook his head. "No . . . I mean . . . he's been more irritable lately. Hasn't he?"

Leo spun around swiftly and delivered a crushing blow to the bag. "He's always irritable. How can you tell if it's _more_?"

Donny looked toward the ground, dejected. His eyebrows knit together briefly, and he bit his lip. Leo wound up for his next attack, but abruptly stopped when he saw Don's face.

Walking around the punching bag, he gently laid his hand on Donny's shoulder. "Hey . . . you okay? What's wrong?"

Donatello looked up, his eyes full of thought. "I don't know . . . I mean, something just feels _off_, you know? I think that Raph's not telling us something . . . that something's going on with him. Something's _different_ with him."

A small smile tugged on the corner of Leonardo's mouth. "Hey, look. Raph's fine. He knows to tell us if something is wrong. We've been working hard lately. He's probably just tired. We all are. . ."

Donny gave a half-hearted smile.

"Besides, if he wasn't feeling well, would he be doing that?" Leo tipped his chin in the direction of the practice mat where Raphael and Michelangelo were fervently sparring. Raphael had Mikey cornered, his teeth showing in a sneer. Suddenly, he leapt, catching Mikey off guard with a kick to the chest. Raphael landed softly, his eyes on fire as he looked down at his youngest brother.

Donny watched, and then sighed. "You're right. . . " he apologized. "I'm just being paranoid."

"Hey, you're not being paranoid . . . you're being _concerned_. There's a difference." Leo squeezed Donny's shoulder gently. "Just remember, he would tell us if something were wrong."

Donny glanced back over at Raphael, who was battling with Michelangelo once more. He studied their movements for a brief second, and his voice was soft when he finally spoke: "I hope so."

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Raphael leaned against the wall feeling lightheaded and queasy. He had pushed himself too hard.

He had felt it as soon as he cornered Mikey.

Mikey had put up a good fight, which made it more difficult for Raph to defeat him. Yet, unable to give Mike the satisfaction, Raphael had pushed himself with energy he didn't have.

His head throbbed painfully after their first sparring. He could barely stand on his feet after the second.

Now, the brothers were resting briefly before Master Splinter's final orders.

Raph stood, his arms crossed tightly across his plastron, breathing carefully. His body longed for more air, but he refused to pant, no matter how good it would feel. Instead, he forced each breath to enter through his nose, filling his lungs. Then, he held it momentarily before slowly releasing it. He continued this pattern, keeping his facial expressions straight and stern, blinking away the small spots that were beginning to form in front of his eyes.

His brothers stood a few feet away, laughing lightly about something. Raphael observed them for awhile, but as blackness began to creep into his peripherals, he opted to shut his eyes and breathe.

The sharp clapping of Master Splinters hands caused Raph to hastily open his eyes. The other three had also turned their attention toward their Sensei, who was standing near the door.

"For your final challenge today, I have set up four stations. Each of you is to rotate through these stations, completing each task. These tasks will test your reflexes, strength, observation, and wisdom: Each a necessary skill in the way of the ninja. You will have ten minutes at each station. If you fail a task, you must repeat it until you have succeeded. I trust that you will do this correctly. When you have completed all of the stations, you will meet me for your daily meditations. Are there any questions?"

Leonardo bowed. "No, Master Splinter."

Raphael rolled his eyes.

Splinter nodded once. "I shall leave you now. But," he glanced over at Michelangelo, "I expect these to be done _correctly_."

Mikey opened his mouth in protest, but Splinter cut him off with a gentle swish of his gnarled hand. "You may begin." Tapping a timer, he turned and disappeared through the door, his tail swinging gently.

As the timer began to tick metrically, the turtles each turned to a different station and focused their attention at the task at hand.

Raphael looked down at his challenge. Pieces of a puzzle were laid haphazardly around his feet. A message, written in Splinter's meticulous handwriting, lay next to the broken pieces. Sighing, he dropped down to his knees and picked up the note.

Scanning the words, he cringed as each movement of his eyes caused his head to painfully throb. Finally, he gave up, and set the note aside, unread.

Picking up a piece in each hand, he twisted and turned them, trying to get them to fit together. He knew that the answer was absolutely logical, but he was unable to focus. Frustrated, he threw them down and picked up two more.

As he tried to force them together, his head continued to throb, spots exploding in front of his eyes. He could feel the waves of nausea beginning to roll in the pit of his stomach again, and he put the pieces down. Leaning forward, he rested his hands on his thighs, his eyes shut.

Slowly, he breathed in and out.

Rhythmically. Matching the ticking timer.

And finally, the throbbing started to cease.

The dinging of the bell shook him from his meditations. Opening his eyes, he looked at the unfinished puzzle, the pieces still in their haphazard position. Splinter's instructions echoed in his head momentarily, and Raph scowled.

He didn't care.

Rolling back on his heels, he rocked himself up to a standing position.

It was too fast . . .

As he pushed himself vertical, Raphael paled and swayed slightly on his feet.

Donatello, who was walking toward his station, rushed forward and touched his arm lightly. "Raph?"

Raph pulled his arm away harshly, a scowl deeply etched across his face. Refusing to look at Donny, he stared straight ahead instead, toward a spot on the wall. "I'm fine."

Donny's brow furrowed. "No, you're not. Maybe you should go sit—"

Raph spun on him, cutting him off abruptly. His face contorted with a rage that Donny had never seen before and his words dripped with distain. "No, Don . . . maybe _you_ should get off my shell and baby someone else!"

"Raphael!" Leo's voice was stern. "There's absolutely no need to talk to him like that! He's just trying to help."

Still scowling, Raph merely rolled his eyes and turned his shell on his older brother. Leonardo angrily lashed out and gripped Raph's arm.

Immediately, Raphael turned back, fire spilling out of his eyes. Leo's gaze matched his and they stood, unmoving, staring silent daggers at each other.

Raph's nostrils flared with each heated breath that he took. His eyes finally broke their gaze with Leo's and flickered toward Leo's grip on his forearm.

He stared at his brother's hand as if it were a disease.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, menacing growl. "Let go of my arm, Leo."

Leo didn't budge, his grip stubbornly remaining firm.

Raph focused his gaze back up to Leo's face, anger darkening his irises to a murky black. Absolute hatred boiled through his veins and filled his body. Without any thought, his fingers twitched slightly toward his sais.

Donatello's eyes widened as he witnessed Raph's threatening gesture. Instantly, he grabbed onto Leo's bicep. "Jesus, Leo . . . you're going to kill each other."

Loathing radiated between the two oldest brothers, yet both refused to tear their eyes from one another. Mikey stood a few feet away, unblinking, ready at a moments' notice to jump forward and grab Raphael.

"LEO!" Don's voice was sharp. He looked pleadingly at his leader, his voice growing softer. "Just let him go . . . it's not worth it."

Leo scoffed audibly. "You mean _he's_ not worth it."

Before Raph could strike, Leo abruptly opened his hand wide, released Raph's arm. As Raph's arm dropped to his side, Leo turned and began to walk away.

"Yeah, that's right . . . WALK AWAY! Oh great and _fearless_ leader." Raph's mocking tone was cold.

Leo's shoulders tensed slightly, but he continued to make his way out of the dojo.

Raph scoffed, expelling his breath in a quiet "pshh", but allowed the matter to be dropped. With one final glare at his brother's retreating shell, he finally turned and stalked heatedly in the opposite direction.

Donatello and Michelangelo stood rooted in the center of the practice mat, not quite sure of what had just happened. They watched as both brothers separated from one another, and then looked at each other.

"Um … what just happened, dude?" Confusion was evident on Mikey's face.

Donny rubbed his hand wearily across his face. "I don't know."

"Should we go after them?"

Donny dropped his arm to his side, and looked tiredly over to his youngest brother. He shook his head slightly and shrugged. "I don't kn—"

A loud thump cut him off unexpectedly. Donny jumped and turned, just in time to see Raphael fall, plastron down, onto the practice mat. His head was turned to the right, his cheek pressed against the mat, and arms were bent unevenly around his face.

"Oh, my God . . . Raph!" Hastily, Donny rushed over to his brother.

By the time Donny was at Raph's side, he was already starting to come to. He moaned as his hand came up to his forehead. Groggily, he rolled his eyes open.

Donny leaned over him and gently touched his shoulder.

Instantaneously, Raphael was alert, hatred returning to his eyes as his face worked its way into a sneer. "Get the fuck off of me, Don." He violently shoved Donny's hand away from his shoulder.

Mikey gasped in surprise.

Donny remained composed. "Why can't you just tell me what's wrong?"

Raph had struggled his way into a seated position. "BECAUSE NOTHING'S FUCKING WRONG!!"

The words echoed loudly around the dojo, causing Mikey to noticeably flinch.

Raph sat, breathing heavily . . .

angrily . . .

painfully.

The effort it took to raise his voice was too much, and suddenly, Raph began cough violently. Then, he was bent over, the coughs shaking his body.

He couldn't stop.

He couldn't breathe.

He was hyperventilating.

He covered his mouth tightly, and tried to pull air deep into his lungs.

The coughing wouldn't cease, and he felt pain deep in his gut.

He bent further over, one hand still covering his mouth, the other one balanced on the mat.

He coughed once more, and felt something loosen in his chest.

Then . . . something wet on his hands.

He pulled his hand away from his mouth and stared.

His breath caught in his throat and he could feel more coughs building in his chest.

His breathing started coming in gasps, and as his heart beat relentlessly in his plastron, he fell forward, lightheaded.

Blood splattered across his palm, dark and alien-like. He stared at it, unwilling to believe that this was his blood.

Blood that was now where it didn't belong.

Contrasting against his skin.

"Donny . . ." Raphael's voice shook between gasps. "I think something's wrong. . . "


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I have recently come to realize that I have been spelling Donnie wrong. Or, perhaps not. Perhaps it's kosher with either a "y" or an "ie," but after thinking about it, I like it better with an "ie." So, for those of you who were thinking I was a complete dumbass who can't spell, you can think I'm a dumbass for something completely different now :) . For those of you who never even noticed, you can disregard this message. Either way, it will be changed from here on out. Sorry for any inconvenience._

_Onward. . . _

Chapter Three

The door clicked quietly.

"I told you something was wrong."

His voice sounded odd . . . distant.

Donatello stood with his eyes wide, one hand on his hip, the other on the side of his domed head, staring blankly at a spot on the floor.

"What the hell happened?"

Leonardo had heard Michelangelo first calling for Splinter and then for him. His terrified voice echoed hollowly off of the Lair's walls.

Instantly, his anger melted and was replaced with unprecedented fear.

He made it back to the dojo before Master Splinter.

Donnie was kneeling. His hands were moving, unsure of what to do or touch. He was talking quietly, yet frantically. Leo couldn't hear what he was saying, but the tone was uncharacteristic.

Michelangelo stood next to Donnie, biting one of his fingers. His eyes were wide and he was panting slightly.

Raphael was on the floor.

Leo had to take a few steps forward to see more than Raph's legs, and when his full body came into view, he involuntarily gasped.

He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling in shock. Tears were falling from his eyes, and his gasps were coming in quick, short shudders. A trail of blood trickled slowly from the corner of his mouth and a single drop fell heavily onto the practice mat. His hand lay by his head, palm open and up. Blood covered it, splattered randomly across the green surface.

As he got closer, he realized that Donnie was pleading with Raph, reassuring him that everything would be fine.

Raphael's eyes were glazed. It looked like he was slipping into shock. If he were listening, it wasn't apparent.

Master Splinter was close on Leonardo's heels.

Pushing gently past Leo, he dropped to his knees next to Donnie. Lightly, he used his tattered robe to wipe the trail of blood from Raphael's face. Looking toward Donnie, he conversed quietly.

Donnie mumbled a response back, his eyes troubled.

Finally, Splinter nodded.

Leonardo wasn't quite sure of how everything after that had panned out. Before he knew it, he had his arm around Raphael, gripping his fingers tightly around the rim of his shell. He and Mikey had been able to pull Raph, dazed and confused, to his feet and lead him to his room.

Carefully, they had gotten him tucked into bed, covering him with heavy blankets to keep him warm and out of shock. Donnie, clearly shaken, had remained outside, unable to cross the threshold into the room.

After everything was settled, Leonardo had quietly left the room, leaving Master Splinter and Michelangelo by Raphael's side. Carefully, he pulled the door shut behind him.

Now, he stood in the hallway, waiting for Donatello's answer.

"Donnie?" He voiced his question again. "What happened?"

Donnie glanced up at Leo, his face ashen. "It all happened so fast . . . he was walking . . . then t-that noise, and he was on the ground. But, he was fine . . . he said . . . he said so . . . and then the coughing . . . and . . . and . . . and then, blood. I jus- . . . I don- . . . I—"

He was no longer looking at Leonardo. Instead, he was rubbing his face; his hands shaking as his eyes wildly scanned the room. He was breathing heavily, panting, on the verge of hysteria.

Leo took a step forward and grabbed both of his shoulders.

Hard.

Donnie snapped his head and looked his brother in the eye. His eyes were moist.

"Don, you gotta snap out of this."

Donnie stared into his brother's eyes and took a soothing breath.

Finally, when his breathing was beginning to calm, Leo spoke again. "Why did this happen?"

Donatello lifted an empty hand and let it flop absently back against his thigh. "I don't know." He swallowed dryly as his eyes began to move across the room again.

"Don, you got to stay with me, here." Leo shook him slightly, snapping him back into attention. "Now, think . . . _what _could have caused this."

Donnie stared at the floor, his mind filing back through years of knowledge. He shut his eyes, wracking his brain for anything. His eyebrows furrowed together as he swayed his head gently back and forth.

At last, he opened his eyes and shrugged his shoulders faintly. "I-I don't know . . . a lot of things. Any kind of lung or heart disease, bronchitis, pneumonia . . .but that doesn't make sense, he would have had greater symptoms . . . fever, coughing, soreness . . ."

He sunk back into his thoughts. His words began to mumble as he thought out loud. "An allergic reaction? No . . . what have we been eating . . . what have we been doing? Nothing out of the ordinary. Has he sustained any injury to his chest? A hit, a kick, perhaps?"

He pulled out of Leo's grip and began to pace the floor, his hand scratching his head. "Where have we gone? Anywhere new? No . . . just patrolling. I mean, it could be anything; anything that's gotten into his system."

Abruptly, he stopped. Spinning, he turned back toward Leo, his eyes wide. "The tranquilizer."

Leo looked at him in question. "What?"

"The tranquilizer . . . the one he got hit with three or four days ago."

Leonardo's brow knit together. "But you checked it. You said that it was a basic tranquilizer."

Donnie rubbed his hand across his forehead. "I know . . . but I only ran a preliminary test. When it came back normal, I-I didn't think to give it any more thought."

"Which you shouldn't have." Leo gripped Donnie's shoulders again, yet gently this time. His eyes were soft.

Donnie sighed, still lost in his thoughts. "God, I don't even know _if_ that's the problem."

"What do we need to do to find out?"

Donatello looked into Leo's eyes. "We need to find that tranquilizer and I need to get a blood sample."

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Finding the tranquilizer did not prove to be an easy task. It had been days since Donatello had examined the small needled spear, and honestly, he couldn't remember what had happened to it.

As he pushed the mess aside on his desk, he prayed that it wasn't somewhere in the New York City dump. His fingers fleeted over papers and gizmos as he looked for any sign of the puff of yellow feathers.

Dropping to his knees, he crawled under the desk and began a meticulous search through the tangle of cords.

Sighing, he sat back on his heels and rubbed a hand across his face.

Leonardo and Michelangelo had separated, and were now in various parts of the Lair, performing their own searches.

Crawling backwards, Donnie emerged from under his desk and slowly pulled himself to his feet. Leaning heavily on the edge of his desk, he shut his eyes and forced his breathing to calm.

_Please . . . please . . . I need to find it_. He prayed silently behind closed eyes. In his head, he saw the small weapon and he forced himself to remember.

_Where did I have it last? _

_My room . . . _

_Where in my room? _

_At my desk, by my lab equipment._

_What did I do with it?_

He tightly squeezed his eyes shut. His mind was hitting a wall.

_Come on, Don . . . THINK!_

He had come into his room, the small dart resting in his open hand. Sitting down at his desk, he had twisted and turned it in his hands, looking for any abnormalities. It looked normal.

He had brought it to his nose and smelled it.

It didn't smell out of the ordinary.

He had taken a small syringe and extracted a tiny amount of the remaining liquid from the hollowed point. Placing the small arrow aside, he had carefully squeezed the potent liquid into a tiny Petri dish. Mixing it with small amount of chemicals, he placed it gently under his microscope.

Placing his eye on the eyepiece, he had watched as the liquid moved. It bubbled slightly and created small circles.

A characteristic sign of a typical sedative.

He had sat back and breathed a sigh of relief.

But the needle.

_What had happened to the needle?_

He saw it sitting, indifferently, next to his microscope. And then, it disappeared from his mind. He tightened his eyes more and forced it to come back into his thoughts.

_Did he move it?_

_No . . . _

_There was no need to._

_So that would mean . . . _

His eyes snapped open and he stared at the disarray of his desk. His eyes scanned the mess, picking over random sheets of paper, crumpled up notes, empty Petri dishes, metal gadgets, screwdrivers and tools, computer parts, dirty dishes, first aide supplies, pens and pencils . . .

_There._

He could see the very edges of the yellow feathers sticking obviously out from under a stack of messy papers. He grabbed for it, scared that if his hand wasn't on it, it would disappear again.

Cautious of the tip, he picked it up slowly in his hands and looked at it, a small smile coming to his face. Now, he only had to go inform Leo and Mikey. The hard part was over . . .

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Or so he thought. . .

Donatello now wasn't sure which was more difficult, finding the tranquilizer, or obtaining a blood sample from Raphael. For some odd reason, a fresh fire had formed inside of Raph, and this new rage became very problematic when Donnie attempted to draw blood from his arm.

Struggling against the thick blankets, Raphael had kicked and jerked his arm. His eyes narrowed threateningly as Donatello attempted to hold his arm down.

"Raph, you gotta settle down. You're going to hurt yourself."

Raphael grunted low in his throat in reply, his breathing coming in gasps.

Instantly, Splinter was by Donnie's side, his twisted hands gripping Raph's wrist. Using all of his body weight, he pressed down.

Raphael continued to fight, thrashing manically as he pulled his arm harshly out of Donatello's and Splinter's grips.

Michelangelo and Leonardo appeared and placed their hands on Raph's bicep and shoulder. Together, the four of them were able to turn his arm over and hold it in place. Steadying his hands, Donnie expertly found a vein and inserted the needle.

Raphael yelled through clenched teeth.

Ignoring him, Donnie quickly filled the syringe and pulled the needle out. Immediately, they released Raphael's arm.

Raphael pulled his arm tightly across his plastron, fire still burning heavily in his eyes. However, exhaustion soon overcame him and his eyes began to flutter. He attempted to fight it, but finally gave up, and allowed his eyes to roll back into his head. His breathing became more rhythmic as it calmed.

Donnie wiped his hand across his forehead, brushing away a drop of sweat, and sighed. Gently, he leaned down and with one hand pulled the blankets up around Raph's face. Straightening, he looked down at his brother and then at the syringe full of blood in his hands.

Noisily, he blew his breath out of his mouth. It escaped with a loud _whoosh_.

"I hope this is it." Still staring at the vile of blood he held in his hands, he mumbled the words to nobody in particular.

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Donnie sat in his darkened room; the lamp on his desk giving off the only light. It spread over the surface, allowing him enough light to work.

He had been working for a few hours.

He had looked at Raphael's blood under the microscope.

Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

He didn't have much more of the potent sedative left, so he had to pick the chemicals and tests carefully. So far, all of the tests came out the same.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Looking at the dart and then at the syringe that held the small quantity of narcotic, he sighed when he realized there were only a few drops left. Grabbing another Petri dish, he prayed silently before dispensing the rest of the liquid with a shaky hand.

He looked at the liquid as it rolled slightly around the plastic dish. Shutting his eyes, he tried to narrow down which chemical to use. There were so many options, yet there was only enough sedative to try one more.

His heart beating inside his plastron, he grabbed a new syringe and filled it with the chosen chemical. Holding his breath, he trickled a few drops into the dish. Carefully, he moved it to his microscope and pushed his eye down onto the eyepiece.

Squinting, he watched as it began to bubble slightly and make small circles.

His shoulders slumped as he bit his lip and started to pull his eye back.

Then, it began to change.

Donnie pressed his eye back into the eyepiece, squinted, and watched in disbelief as the mixture began to take new shape.

Immediately, he grabbed the Petri dish that contained the few drops of Raph's blood. Removing the combination of sedative and chemicals from under the microscope, he replaced it with Raphael's blood.

Shutting one eye, he looked through the microscope. Raphael's blood looked perfectly fine.

Nothing unusual.

Licking his lips, Donnie took the syringe that held the last chemical that he had tested. With his eye still squinting through the eyepiece, he carefully squirted a few drops into the Petri dish.

He held his breath as he waited for any sort of chemical reaction.

As he watched, it began to move and Donnie couldn't stop the swear word that escaped his lips.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"What did you find?" Leonardo's voice was hopeful as he crossed the threshold into Donatello's room.

Donnie was sitting at his desk, his elbows resting gently on his knees, staring at an invisible spot on the floor. "Close the door, will ya?"

Leo stopped briefly in his tracks, a look of confusion crossing his face. Opting to not ask any questions, he turned and quietly shut the door. Then, he turned back to his brother and waited patiently in silence.

A few minutes prior, Donnie had knocked gently on the doorframe of Leonardo's room.

Leo had looked up, surprised. But, as soon as he saw Donatello, his feelings became a mixture of excitement and fear. No words needed to be spoken. Instead, Leo's eyes, full of question, said it all.

"Could you come to my room?" Donnie's voice was soft, yet nothing uncharacteristic.

Leo nodded. "Do you want me to get Mikey?"

Don shook his head. "No, not yet. Just you."

Before Leo could ask any questions, or utter a single word, Donnie had turned and walked silently from the room.

Leo's heartbeat raced as he slowly pushed himself to his feet and made his way toward Donnie's room. It took every ounce of self-control to stop his feet from running down the hallway.

He had paused outside the door. A million thoughts and ideas were scrambling through his head, jumbled and incoherent. Finally, he forced his thoughts to calm slightly. There was no need to speculate anything without talking to Donnie. He had taken a deep breath, composed himself, pushed the door open, and crossed the threshold.

Now, Leo stood with his shell against the door. His thoughts had returned, stronger than ever.

Donnie still sat, staring at the floor. His face showed tension and contemplation. His expression was grim. His shoulders were high and tight, as if they carried the weight of the entire World.

Leo stayed silent, giving Donnie as much time as he needed. However, his breathing was deep. He didn't like the look on Donnie's face.

No, scratch that . . . he didn't like the whole damn situation.

Finally, Donnie snapped out of his thoughts. He rubbed his hand briskly over his face as he released his breath noisily through his mouth. Bringing his head up, he found Leo's eyes. He held his gaze as he stood from the chair.

"I want you to see something."

Leo nodded. His mouth had suddenly gone dry and he wasn't sure if he could speak if he wanted to.

Donnie gestured at the microscope that was spotlighted on the top of his desk.

Leo walked forward, but it was difficult.

It felt like a dream.

He couldn't feel the floor beneath the soles of his feet.

They dragged like leaden bricks.

This was going to be bad. He could feel it deep within his bones.

At last, he reached the desk and, bending slightly at the waist, put his eye against the eyepiece.

It was cold and he flinched slightly.

Pressing his eye firmly against the cold rubber again, he squinted at the contents of the Petrie dish. It moved as he watched. Red, black, and grey swirled together, creating a kaleidoscopic effect. He had no idea what he was looking at, yet he continued to stare at the substance.

"What is this?"

"It's a sample of Raph's blood."

"Okay . . . so?"

"Do you see how there are black spots?"

Leo nodded, his eye still pressed against the eyepiece. "Yeah. What does it mean?"

"And do you see how they seem to be devouring the red spots?"

Leo pulled his eye away and looked at Donatello in exasperation. "Yeah, Don. I see. But, _what_ does it _mean_?"

The room was silent as Donnie slowly took his eyes from the floor and brought them up to meet his brother's gaze. At last, licking his lips, he shrugged his shoulders feebly. He took a deep breath and held it, preparing himself for the words that he must say.

"It's killing him."

Although his words came out in a whisper, they were still audible in the silent room.

Yet, Leo stared at him as if the words didn't make any sense.

Donnie took another breath and released it shakily. He dropped his shoulders slightly, broadened his stance, and forced his voice to be stronger, even though the words ripped through his heart like a sword.

"Leo . . . he's dying."

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Raphael was quickly deteriorating.

Hours had been stretched into days.

And, as these days went on, he got significantly worse.

At first, the rage was ever present. It was impossible to take blood, administer drugs, or talk to him with any hopes of an answer deeper than a grunt or sarcastic remark. But now, it didn't appear that he had the strength for such anger.

Now, his skin had changed from an effervescent green to an ashen grey. His eyes were sunken and black, his lips cracked and dry. He panted, and at times even gasped for breath.

He had stopped eating a day ago and it was becoming a chore to make sure he drank anything. If they placed a cup to his lips, he would attempt to take a few drops, but the effort would cause him to erupt into a coughing fit. They would help him to sit up slightly, supporting his shell against their chests, as his weakened body was wracked. Finally, the coughing would desist and exhausted, his head would fall to the side, and he would rest.

He slept the majority of the day, hardly moving. When he did open his eyes, somebody was always by his side.

Normally, it was Splinter; sitting close, his eyes closed in mediation as he kept a constant grip on Raphael's hand.

When Splinter needed rest, Michelangelo took his spot. Completely unlike Splinter, he spent his time talking. He told Raph stories and jokes. And, although Raph rarely answered back, he kept his spirits high. His light laughter and exciting antidotes could be heard through the semi-closed door.

However, when he finally left Raphael's room, Donatello could see the strain that he was under. He knew that Mikey was trying to stay strong, but over the last few nights, when Donnie was up late working, he could hear the sobs of his youngest brother.

It broke his heart and pressed him to work even more diligently.

The amount of times Leonardo had been in to visit Raph was able to counted on one hand.

And when you only have three fingers, this was saying a lot.

His guilt was too strong. It was overpowering his ability to make decisions. He kept reliving his argument in the dojo and it tore him from the inside out. He was unable to see his strongest brother like that.

So weak.

Perhaps, if Leo had done something productive, instead of let his tempter get the best of him, Raph wouldn't be like that.

It didn't matter that his entire family told him otherwise . . . he was still too guilt-ridden to stay next to Raph for very long.

Instead, he spent his time in the dojo, secluded, either practicing or meditating.

Donatello had spent every waking moment working in his room, testing blood and mixing chemicals, trying to find a cure.

Almost a full day had passed since he had last seen Raph. The last time he saw Raph he took blood quickly, checked his ever rising fever, but was unable to stay in the room.

It was too bad.

And Raphael's steadily decreasing state was only a reiteration of Donnie's impending failure.

A failure that would eventually claim the life of his brother.

Putting aside sleep and eating, he had locked himself in his room and focused solely on finding a cure. Yet, as the days went on, and sleep became a distant memory, he began to run out of new ideas and the feeling of hopelessness began to seep into his soul.

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Leonardo opened his eyes. He had been attempting to meditate in the dojo, but his heart wasn't into it. Instead, his mind was poisoned with thoughts of guilt. Stretching his sore muscles, he pushed himself to his feet and padded quietly out into the living room.

It was dark and quiet in the Lair.

Leo looked around. Donatello's door was shut tight, just as it had been for the last 24 hours. Leo could see the small sliver of light escaping from under the door, making thin lines on the hallway floor.

Walking carefully yet silently, he made his way toward the bedrooms. He paused at Donnie's closed door and brought his ear near. He could hear Donnie mumbling as beaker glasses clinked melodically.

Straightening, he continued on his way.

The next door he hit was Michelangelo's. It was half-closed, open slightly to the hallway. It was dark inside. However, without even looking into the darkened room, Leo could hear Mikey's soft snoring emerging from deep within the shadows. Grabbing the doorknob lightly, he pulled the door closed more so that it was only open a crack.

He was glad that Mikey was finally taking some time to sleep.

This whole ordeal had taken a toll on him. A toll that the entire family should be burdening together. Yet, he was taking the brunt of it by himself.

Mikey was exhausted. And for good reason.

A new wave of guilt washed over Leo.

While thinking, Leo had been walking. Now, without even realizing it, Leo had moved over to Raphael's room. He was standing silently outside of the door, unmoving. The door stared him in the face, a defiant monster he wasn't sure he could conquer right now.

He could feel fear and guilt building once more.

Looking over his shoulder, he looked for an escape. Something that would allow him to leave and cause the guilt to dissipate.

His eyes fell on Mikey's closed door.

Shutting his eyes, he fought with his thoughts.

_You're the leader. . . _

_I'm not strong enough . . . _

_You need to step up. . . _

_I'm not ready . . . _

_Mikey can't do it alone . . . _

_I'm scared . . . _

_So is everyone else . . . _

_What if I can't do anything . . . ?_

_Then, at least you know you tried . . . _

Pushing his fears and guilt aside, he reached forward and grasped the doorknob. Fearful of any sound, he turned it painstakingly slow. When he heard the latch slide silently, he pushed the door open.

It was dark, yet warm in the room. Leo stepped in and shut the door as he allowed his eyes to adjust briefly in the steamy climate.

It smelled like sickness in the room.

Leo wasn't sure if the room was humid on purpose, or if a combination of Raphael's fever, the labored breathing, and the door constantly being closed was steaming the air.

As his eyes adjusted more, dark shapes began to form. Leo could see Splinter leaning awkwardly in his chair. His breathing was consistent, deep and slow as he slept with his head on his shoulder. The hand that normally held Raph's had dropped over the arm of the chair and now hung limply by his side.

Leo stooped and gently gripped his Sensei's hand. Bringing it up, he laid it carefully over Splinter's lap. He then grabbed the thin blanket that had fallen onto the floor and pulled it lovingly up to Splinter's shoulders.

Splinter moved slightly, but after snuggling a little deeper under the blanket, settled back into slumber.

Leo looked at Splinter for a second. Finally, he moved his eyes. They stopped on Raphael's still figure on the bed. Taking a deep breath, Leo moved expertly around the bed and pulled a chair closer to the side of the bed.

He sat, yet as soon as he did, the overwhelming feeling of guilt swarmed back into his heart. He watched as Raph's chest rose and fell, shallow and choppy. Grasping his hands, he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. All of the poisonous thoughts were invading his mind, stronger than ever. He bit back the tears as he stared in silence at the floor.

"Hey, Stranger."

Leonardo's head snapped up at the raspy whisper.

Sunken eyes met his in the dim light.

"Raph?" A thick lump had suddenly formed in Leo's throat.

"I haven't seen you in awhile." The soft words came out between shallow gasps.

Leo leaned forward and gripped Raph's hand. "I know . . . I'm sorry, buddy."

Raph shook his head faintly. He coughed once, and pulled a deep breath in through his nose before answering. "No worries."

Leo could feel hot tears of embarrassment forming behind his eyes. "No . . . no it's not alright. I need to apologize." His voice was thick.

Raph weakly squeezed his hand, causing the tears to form faster.

"I'm sorry for what happened in the dojo. I'm sorry that I didn't see any of the signs earlier. I'm sorry that I didn't listen to Donnie when he was observant enough to see that there was a problem. I'm sorry that I haven't been strong enough to stop worrying about myself for the last few days, when I should have been worrying about you."

The tears were falling freely down his cheeks now.

"I'm sorry that I haven't been the leader that I should have been. I'm sorry that I haven't been the _brother_ that I should have been. I'm sorry that I've never told you that I love you. Because I do. I love you more than you realize."

"Please, Leo . . ." It was a strangled whisper, and Leo realized that Raphael had silent tears falling down his own face. "Don't."

Leo put his face down on top of Raph's hand. He could smell him, feel his cold skin against his cheek, and he couldn't stop the tears that fell from his eyes.

"It was meant to be this way . . ." Logic was mixed into Raph's labored breathing.

"But, I could have done something." Leo was pleading now. He was pleading with his brother not to accept his seemingly unyielding fate.

"There's nothing you could have done . . . Splinter's pet." Raph chuckled lightly at the old insult, yet it sounded unnatural and painful.

Leo looked up and sniffled. He swallowed as a crooked smile slowly crossed his features. "Ninja dropout."

Raph closed his eyes and smiled.

The brothers sat in silence for awhile, Leo still gripping Raphael's hand.

Finally, Raph spoke, breaking the silence with his whispered gasp: "I'm tired, Leo."

It was like a child asking for permission. New tears brimmed in Leo's eyes.

Leaning forward, Leo used his other hand to tenderly caress Raph's face. "Then sleep, little brother."

"Will you stay here, until I fall asleep?" Already, with his eyes still closed, it was evident that his voice was thick with sleep.

"I would dream of being anywhere else." Leo squeezed his hand. "Now, sleep."

As Raph's head fell gently to one side, Leo couldn't tell if it were Raph's sleep induced words or his own imagination. Yet, in the silence, Leo heard a whisper, clear as day:

"I love you, too."


	5. Chapter 5

Things were worse.

A constant watch remained over Raphael. He shivered and sweat as his body was attacked with an ever present fever. It was lucky if he woke once within 24 hours, and if he did, his eyes only remained open for a handful of minutes.

His family did all that they could to keep him comfortable.

He was rapidly losing weight. He had stopped eating four days ago, and his body was weak, anemic, and frail.

When he did wake, he could barely talk. His words came out in whispers, hardly audible, and the whispers took more strength than he had. It normally ended in a coughing fit that left tiny flecks of blood around the corners of his mouth. He would then collapse in exhaustion, all energy gone.

He was dissolving; eaten from the inside out.

Donatello had yet to leave his room. He worked relentlessly through the hours. His eyes burned. His energy was low. But he couldn't stop.

He was close.

He was always close.

But, he wasn't close enough.

He was missing one small thing, yet he didn't know what it was. And he was beginning to second guess himself.

He had cured the venom, but without that missing ingredient, the treatment would destroy Raph's body. He would kill his brother.

He was running out of options.

And, he was running out of time.

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It was late.

The Lair was quiet except for the small sounds coming from Donatello's room. His desk lamp cast a glow that caused eerie shadows to appear around his room. Don's hands shook from exhaustion as he used an eye dropper to drip some amber colored liquid into a Petrie dish. He held his breath as he pressed his eye to his microscope.

Instantly, his heart dropped. He released his breath in one solid _whoosh_.

Nothing happened.

He gripped the tube that held the amber liquid. It shook violently in his hand, and for a brief moment, he almost uncharacteristically hurled it across the room in frustration. Closing his eyes, he continued to grip the container until his fingers hurt. The pain seemed to bring him back to reality, and almost instantly, his anger cooled.

Placing the cylinder on the desk, Donnie sat back and pressed the heels of his hands deeply into his eyes. His head pounded. Leaning back, he stretched the sore muscles of his back. Sighing, he pushed himself away from his desk and slowly stood. His legs protested as he straightened them.

Unconsciously, he began to pace the floor of his bedroom. His movements were stiff—almost robotic—as his muscles were subjected to the unfamiliar exertion. As he moved, his mind wandered. His eyes closed as he rifled through the experiments that didn't work and then moved to the limited options that he had left. But his thoughts were muddled. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't remember what chemicals he had tried anymore. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to think scientifically.

He had a problem.

There was a solution.

But what was it?

And was he resourceful enough to find it?

Abruptly, Donatello stopped pacing and opened his eyes. He stood about an arm's length away from his bedroom door. Glancing over his shoulder, he let his eyes sweep over the messy disarray that covered his desk. Glass tubes, Petrie dishes, and various containers of chemicals littered the surface of the desk and the floor around it. Bringing his head back around, he stared at the closed door in front of him.

He bit his lip as thoughts flooded into his mind. He tried to put them into some sort of order. Again, looking back at his desk and then to the door, he felt his heartbeat thud heavily inside of his plastron. He had never felt so nervous to leave his room.

Yet, as he looked back at his desk again, he realized that the answers he needed were not going to come to him at his desk. Instead, he needed to allow his mind to clear. He needed a breath of fresh air. And, he needed to see someone else.

He needed to see Raphael.

His fingers shook slightly as he reached out for the doorknob. Gently, he grasped it, the metal cool under his fingertips. Swallowing heavily, he turned it slowly until he heard it _click_ softly. Taking one final glance over his shoulder, he took in a deep breath and released it before quietly pulling the door open.

Darkness hit his eyes. The Lair was completely silent with the sounds of sleep. It was cooler out there, and Donnie couldn't help but close his eyes momentarily and breathe the fresher air deep into his lungs. Releasing it silently, he opened his eyes and took a hesitant step out into the hallway.

Noiselessly, his feet padded softly down the hallway, as he moved forward and away from his room. He moved slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Finally, he reached Raphael's door. Shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath and attempted to steady his frantic heartbeat.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

He felt like a failure, and Raphael was living proof of it.

But, he needed to see him.

Cautiously, he gripped the doorknob. He turned it, pushed the door open, and slid into the bedroom in one solid, silent motion. Holding the doorknob on the inside of the door, Donnie leaned against his hand, allowing his bodyweight to gently push the door shut once more. He closed his eyes in the heat of the room, afraid of what he was going to see. So, instead he listened.

He could hear Raphael's labored breathing. The steadiness was broken occasionally by a series of small coughs and shudders.

Tears pricked at the corners of Donnie's closed eyes, threatening to spill out if any opportunity were given.

Still pressing his shell against the door, he could hear the soft, rhythmic breathing of his brother and, without even opening his eyes, Donnie knew that it was Leonardo. Matching his breathing to Leo's, Donnie took some of his leader's strength and calmed himself slightly before opening his eyes.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see Leonardo sitting in a chair near Raphael's bed. His head drooped slightly as he slept, his hands folded meticulously across his plastron. Donnie moved his eyes from his oldest brother and could see the darkened shape of Raphael on the bed. Without getting any nearer, he could see how small he appeared, even under the mound of thick, heavy blankets.

Donnie's heart broke.

Raphael was always the strong one: physically, mentally, and emotionally. He prided himself in his strength. And now, to see him look so tiny, so minuscule, so ill . . . it was uncharacteristic. And Donnie couldn't help but feel the invisible monster that was guilt pressing down on him.

He took a few steps forward, still lost in his thoughts, but as he got closer, moving his feet became more and more difficult. He looked back at the door, contemplating just turning around and leaving.

"Hey." The voice was scratchy, thickly cloaked with sleep

Donnie swung his head around. Leo was slowly waking, rubbing his sore neck warily with his hand. Donnie cleared his throat quietly before answering. "Hey."

"What time is it?" Leo was sitting upright now, rolling his shoulders in a deep stretch.

Donnie shrugged his shoulders and then quickly realized that in the poor light, Leo probably couldn't see the slight movement. "Um . . . I don't know."

"Oh." Leo sat in silence for awhile; taking in his surroundings as he sleepily rubbed one eye with a balled fist. Suddenly, he turned his head back at Donnie. "Did you find something?" His voice held such excitement that Donnie almost broke down in tears right then and there.

Attempting to swallow the thick lump that was quickly forming, he cleared his throat once more. "Um . . .no."

Leo's shoulders slumped momentarily, but soon he regained his composure and turned toward his smart younger brother once more. "So, what's going on?"

His voice was patient and kind.

Just like Leo . . .

And at the present moment, Donnie found it to be condescending, and loathed its tone.

Donnie looked down at the floor, angry at the tears that were tickling the corners of his eyes. They didn't even touch his cheeks, and he could already tell that they were hot and angry.

Another sign of his failure.

He heard the slight squeak of the rocking chair as Leo pushed himself vertical. Without looking up, he could hear that Leo was walking toward him, with his soft, patient footsteps. His eyes continued to burn a hole into the floor until he could smell Leo's natural, simple, fragrance. As usual, Leo was tolerant, allowing Donnie the time to bring his head up. He stood close, but not too close; never touching.

Taking a deep breath, Donnie finally turned his head and attention toward his oldest brother and was suddenly grateful for the darkness, so Leo couldn't see how wet his eyes were.

"Um . . ." His voice was thick, and didn't sound right inside of his head. He swallowed briefly and tried again. "I don't really know. I-I just needed to—"

He broke off, his throat too thick to talk.

Leo placed a hand gently on his shoulder and Donnie wished the he would just go away.

"You needed to see him, didn't you?"

Donnie nodded, and this time, he didn't care if Leo couldn't see it in the murkiness of the room.

Leo sighed heavily through his nose as realization set in. "Of course you did . . . ." It was a quiet remark, almost inaudible, and Donnie didn't know if it were meant for him, or simply Leonardo thinking out loud.

Finally, after a moment of silence, Leo squeezed Donnie's shoulder, a firm but loving gesture. "You take all the time you need, okay bro?"

Once again, Donnie only nodded, finding it too difficult yet to speak.

Another gentle squeeze to his shoulder and in his mind, Donnie could almost see the small smile on Leo's lips. "I'll be right outside if you need anything."

And then he was gone and Donnie was faced with his greatest fear: Being alone with his dying brother.

His brother who was dying because of him.

Because he couldn't find the answer.

Donnie waited for the sound of the door being pulled quietly shut before he turned back toward the bed in the middle of the room. Taking a hesitant step forward, he tried to stop the butterflies that fluttered relentlessly in the pit of his stomach.

Reaching the rocking chair that Leonardo had been occupying, he stepped in front of it, reached his hands behind him to the armrests, and pulled it up to his legs, closer to the bed. He eased himself slowly, wearily into a sitting position and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He stared at Raphael's body on the bed until his eyes began to blur with threatening tears.

He brought his hand up to his face and hastily wiped at his eyes. He rubbed his face from his forehead, to his eyes, and finally down to his mouth. Leaning his mouth against his hand, he forced himself to breath as he stared blankly at the floor.

He didn't know how long he sat there, but finally, he removed his hand from his face and let it drop limply between his legs. Taking a breath, he moved his eyes back up to his brother.

Raph lay unmoving, breathing heavily; the sound deafening around the silent room. His shoulders and arms were above the blankets, lying straight down his body. His hands, always so strong, were weak looking as they limply lay next to his thighs. He looked so different; so small and fragile. Already, in this short period of time, the definition of his muscles was beginning to fade, causing him to look like a completely different person.

Shakily, Donnie reached forward and placed his hand gently over Raphael's. Raph's hand was cold. It was dry and chapped and felt rough under Donnie's touch.

Rhythmically, Donnie began to rub his fingers lightly over the top of Raph's hand. He sat in silence, his mind reeling, as he took in the feel of his brother. With each pass over Raph's knuckles, Donnie felt the pressure of his guilt pressing down even more. He licked his lips, tears brimming.

"Hey." A cracked whisper was all the he could muster. He squeezed his brother's hand and cleared his throat. "I know it's been awhile—I-I mean, I've been meaning to--" his words caught as a single tear fell from his eye. He sniffed, looking down at the hand that he was holding and tried once more. "I've been meaning to come and see you."

He couldn't fight the tears any more. Silently, they fell from his eyes, soaking his face and dropping onto their clasped hands. "I've tried. Oh, God, Raph, I've tried so hard. I've tried everything. And now . . . I-I can't remember what I've done. I don't have any more answers. I-" he swallowed thickly, the chair rocking deeply. "I just don't know what else to do. Tell me what to do."

Raph's chest gently rising and falling was his only reply.

He was sobbing now. He gripped Raph's hand with strength he forgot he had and fell forward off of the chair, so he was kneeling beside the bed. Bringing his other hand up, he placed it over their intertwined hands and buried his face deeply into their connected flesh.

"I need you, Raph. _We _need you. Please . . . just tell me what to do. Tell me how I can help you. I need to help you . . . " He spoke into the blankets, his voice muffled as he pleaded with his brother; pleaded with God; pleaded with anyone that would listen.

His sobs echoed harshly around the room. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to speak any more. Freeing his hands, he fisted them tightly in the blankets around Raph's arms. They were drenched with his tears.

Donnie felt gentle pressure sweep across the back of his head. He looked up. Tears heavily clouded his vision, but he was still able to see dull eyes turned toward him. "Raph?" Sitting straight up, Donnie fumbled for Raph's hand again.

A weak smile crossed Raphael's face. "Hey, bro." His whispered voice was breathy and weak. He wheezed slightly as he inhaled. "Long time, no—" He broke off as his body was attacked with violent coughing.

Terrified, Donatello immediately pulled himself up onto the bed, next to Raph. Breathing hard, his hands traveled lightly down Raphael's neck and ran over his collar bone until the coughing subsided.

"—see . . . ." It was a strangled word, and Donnie couldn't help but chuckle lightly at Raph's typical stubbornness.

Yet, as Don brought his hand up again and lovingly caressed the side of Raph's face, the seriousness of the situation came rushing back like a crashing wave, and his lightheartedness was instantly replaced with the familiar feelings of guilt and fear.

Patiently, Raphael looked up at his brother, allowing him the time he needed.

"I know it's been awhile, pal . . . ." Donatello's voice was soft as he choked out the words. It was one of the hardest things he had ever had to say to his brother. "But, I've had to work . . . God, I've been working so hard."

He broke off, and Raph's eyes continued their steady, gentle gaze. Feeling the tears once more, Donatello inhaled sharply and turned his head, unable to look at his brother anymore. He stared absently at a spot on one of the blankets.

Weakly, Raph squeezed Donnie's hand, making it even more difficult for Donnie to turn his attention back. "I know you have."

It was no louder than a whisper, yet the words drove a steak directly through Don's heart. Choking back his sobs, he turned to look at his older brother again, tears glistening in his eyes. "But I haven't worked hard enough . . ." He broke off again as the realization of his failure hit him like a ton of bricks. "I can't find the answer."

Falling forward, he buried his face into Raph's plastron. He clutched the front of Raph's shell in a viselike grip as tears fell from his eyes and pooled in Raph's collarbone.

Raphael slowly reached a hand up and laid it across Donatello's neck. With his remaining strength, he attempted to console him. "Shhh . . . it's okay. You did everything you could. It was just meant--" he paused to inhale painfully, "meant to be this way."

Donatello looked up, shaking his head violently. "No—no, please. Don't talk like that. We need you."

Raphael's eyes were closed now, exhaustion evident on his face. A small smile played on his lips. "You'll be fine. You'll all be fine . . . . You always are . . . ."

"I can find it. I can find the answer and make you better." Donnie was near hysterics, not even bothering with the tears that fell freely from his eyes.

"I know, Brainiac . . . I trust you." His voice dropped to an even quieter whisper and Donatello had to place his ear directly over Raph's mouth just to hear him.

_Trust._

The word was like a red hot dagger being plunged into his back.

"But, how? How can you trust me?" He laid his head back down on Raph's chest. He asked the question aloud, although he wasn't sure if it was for his own thoughts or if he was really expecting an answer.

"Because I love you."

It was the last whispered thing that Raphael was able to muster before exhaustion overtook his body.

Donatello heard the fragmented statement as his head lay on his brother's chest. Knowing that Raphael had finally slipped back into unconsciousness, he opted not to move. Instead, he was contented to cling to him and listen to his weak heartbeat as those last words echoed in his head.

_Because I love you . . . _


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Donatello awoke with the touch of a gentle hand on his shoulder. He stirred, his eyes heavy as the days of sleepless nights finally caught up with him. He was warm; cushioned deeply into something . . .

Or someone.

As the room slowly came back into reality, he could feel hot, labored breath against his cheek, and he realized that he was buried against Raphael. Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position. His face was tight with dried tears and his eyes burned. Taking a deep breath, Don ground his fists into his eyes as he attempted to orientate himself. Slightly confused, he looked around.

Blinking rapidly, Raphael's room slowly came back into focus. The punching bag and other weight-lifting equipment in the corner; the messy array of comic books spread across the floor; random sais littered around the room.

Turning his head, Donnie winced as his muscles protested. A sharp pain shot from his neck down across his shoulders. Stretching, he massaged the kinked knots gingerly. His eyes spanned the room lazily. As his head oscillated to the left, he was suddenly staring into the dark eyes of Leonardo.

Donnie jumped slightly, and a sheepish smile crossed Leo's face. "Sorry." Leo apologized, his voice just above a whisper.

Donnie shook his head. "No, man. It's okay." His voice matched the timbre of Leo's, although he wasn't quite sure why. Raphael wasn't going to be disturbed with the brothers talking. Donnie's throat was sore and he cleared it quietly.

The brothers sat in awkward silence. Leo played with his hands as he looked at the floor. Finally, he looked up. "Look . . . I'm sorry to wake you . . . but . . . you were making noises. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Donnie looked over at Leo again. "Noises?"

Leo nodded, avoiding eye contact. "You were yelling . . . and crying."

Memories of last night's events came flooding back into Donnie's mind. Talking. . pleading . . . Raph . . .running out of time. . . .a cure. His eyes widened. "How long have I been out?"

Leo shrugged his dignified shoulders. "I don't know. I fell asleep on the couch. A few hours, perhaps? I fell asleep on the couch."

Donnie sat in silence, Leo's words slowly sinking in. A couple of hours . . .

_A couple of hours?!_

Fully alert, panic set in. A couple of HOURS? A couple of hours that he would never get back, hours of work that would never get done, and a couple of hours that Raphael was slowly slipping away.

The blankets twisted around his feet and Donatello struggled against them as he attempted to get to his feet. Leo furrowed his brow at his brother's sudden burst of energy. However, he held his tongue and instead, he leaned forward and helped untangle the disheveled sheets.

"What's wrong?" Leo asked as Donnie finally pushed himself to his feet.

"I need to get back to work . . ." he answered vaguely. His eyes were slightly unfocused and it appeared that he was speaking to no one. Leo knew the look well. Formulas, problems, and solutions were already running through his genius brother's head and there was no way of breaking through to him.

Instead, Leo held back his questions and took a step sideways as Donnie made his way to the door, still lost in his thoughts. Leo watched as Don's shell disappeared from Raph's room, the darkness of the hallway engulfing him. He stared into the darkness for a few moments, still piecing things together in his mind. Finally, he tore his eyes away and turned them to Raphael.

He still appeared the same: His eyes closed as he painfully drew breath in and out. His skin was still ghastly in color; pale and shiny. He looked peaceful . . . yet almost _too_ peaceful. If it weren't for the rhythmic labored breaths every few seconds, Leo would have been worried.

Leaning forward, Leo gently straightened the blankets Donatello had kicked away. He pulled them higher and draped them over Raph, tucking them gently under his shoulders. He then ran his hand across Raphael's forehead. As his hand swept lightly from temple to temple, he could fee the clamminess of Raph's skin under his fingertips. His touch traveled down the side of Raph's face and his hand lingered slightly on his brother's cheek. His hand remained there momentarily as Leo closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer.

"Hang in there, bro . . ." His whispered request knotted in his throat.

Finally, he removed his hand and moved over to the chair that was set up by Raph's bed. Slowly . . . tiredly . . . he eased himself into what had been considered his home for too many days. It felt familiar under his legs.

As he leaned back into it, familiar emotions washed over him as well. Emotions of fear, apprehension, optimism, sorrow, confusion, helplessness . . .

Pushing them aside, he sighed audibly, breaking the silence of the murky darkness that encompassed the room. With one final glance toward his ailing brother, he shut his eyes and did the only thing he knew how:

He waited.

The sound of glass breaking shattered the deathly silence that filled the Lair. Donatello stared silently at the spot where the beaker had exploded. In a daze, he watched as the liquid dribbled slowly down the wall. His mind reeled as the amber-colored concoction swirled and mixed as it dripped vertically to the floor. Finally, he tore his eyes from the mesmerizing mess and ran his hands over his face. He scrubbed his face hard, grinding the heels of his hands into his closed eyes.

His mind hurt. Hell, his whole body hurt. It ached with lack of sleep and frustration. Falling asleep had been a bad idea. Before, his body was deprived, but he worked through it, not realizing the stress. However, after his little nap, his body had come to realize that it needed rest and Donnie was more tired than ever. He found it hard to focus with his eyes and body screaming for sleep. Test after failed test went by. He didn't know how long he had been working, but it was long enough to allow his temper to flair. The puddle on the floor that was littered with small shards of glass was proof of that.

Dropping his head heavily into his hands, he focused on his breathing, pulling air deep into his lungs: In and out. With each breath, he felt slightly calmer.

In . . .

and out . . .

Repeating this, he tried to rationalize his thoughts.

What hadn't he tried?

What was the closest he had come to a solution?

What was he missing?

He couldn't remember anything. His eyes were growing heavier and nothing was making sense anymore. Lost in his thoughts, he felt his head begin to droop. Immediately, he snapped it upright, his eyes wide. Breathing deeply, he shook his head violently from side to side. He passed his hand across his eyes and down his cheek.

His eyes drifted to the top of his desk, and he stared at the mess of science equipment that littered the surface. Absentmindedly, he grabbed for a fresh beaker. As he reached for a small vial of lavender-colored liquid, he realized that his hand was shaking. Grasping his left hand tightly with his right, he felt the familiar sting of tears pricking behind his eyes: Hot and angry.

He mentally scolded himself for the emotional outbreak that was hindering his work, but as soon as the first tear slipped down his cheek, his will was broken. His shoulders slumped over as the sobs came again.

He had hit his wall.

He was out of options.

He was outsmarted . . . and no amount of praying or crying would change that.

_It was dark._

_Opening one eye, Donatello peered into the murky darkness. He turned his head to the right._

_Nothing._

_To the left . . ._

_Nothing._

_But he was not afraid._

_It was warm. Almost like a black sun was casting its rays onto his skin. He turned his face up to the invisible heat, his eyes closed. The stress slipped from his shoulders and he felt better than he had felt for days. Breathing deep, he smiled as the heat traveled from his face and down his arms._

_A light abruptly switched on to his left. Immediately, Donnie's head snapped toward the unexpected brightness. As he eyes adjusted, he felt his breath catch in his throat._

_A large, overhead spotlight shone down, creating a luminescent circle on the floor of the dark room. In the middle of the floor sat a single bed, its sheets kicked messily toward the bottom. And on the bed was a solitary figure. It sat at the end, its feet planted on the floor as it stared at its hands that were neatly folded in its lap._

_Donnie squinted at the figure, but he couldn't see its face. Tentatively, he took a step toward the bed. Immediately, the figure snapped its head up, bathing its face in the glow of the spotlight. Donnie halted, his heart pounding as recognition sunk in._

_Raphael._

_Donatello stared, not daring to believe his eyes. _

_Raphael—his brother—was sitting up in bed, fully conscious. His color had returned—a rich, deep emerald green. A crooked smirk stretched across Raph's features that made his eyes twinkle in the light. That damned smirk that was so characteristic . . . that meant that he was up to no good . . . was now the best thing Donatello had ever seen._

_"Raph . . ." Donnie's voice sounded funny in his own ears as it echoed dully around the dark room. Reaching for his brother, he took another step._

_Raphael's eyes twinkled even more brightly as a wide grin replaced the smirk. Still smiling, he shook his head from side to side._

_Instinctively, Donnie dropped his arm to his side, his brow furrowing. He took another tentative step forward._

_With kindness in his eyes, Raph shook his head from side to side once more, his smile softening. He looked toward the darkness behind the bed before turning his gaze back to his brother. The damned smirk reappeared and Donnie's eyes widened._

_"Don't . . ."_

_His request was feeble and died away. Before he could take another step, Raphael was on his feet. With a final smile, he was swallowed by the inky blackness._

_"NO!" _

_Panic set in an immediately Donatello was running, blindly rushing into the darkness. He ran with his arms extended in front of him, groping wildly. His lungs began to burn as the light got further away. _

_When he couldn't run anymore, he slumped over, his hands on his knees. As he drew deep breaths into his lungs, he glanced over his shoulder. The spotlight was a tiny speck in the distance. Looking back into the darkness, he swallowed thickly. _

_"Raph?" The name echoed eerily._

_Silence answered him. He felt tears stinging the corners of his eyes as he looked back toward the small speck of light in the distance._

_Suddenly, his ears pricked. He heard something . . . _

_Laughter._

_It was faint, but quite audible. Donnie turned his head toward the sound._

_"Raph?"_

_The laughter grew louder and Donatello blindly took a step toward it. As he walked, it grew even louder, echoing in his ears. His pace quickened. The light disappeared completely behind him, leaving him surrounded in absolute darkness. His fingers stretched before him, groping, the laughter still ringing in his ears._

_"95, 96, 97 . . ."_

_Raph's voice boomed into the darkness and Donnie jumped at the unexpected sound. _

_"98, 99, 100! Ready of not, here I come!"_

_Donnie glanced around the darkness as footsteps padded in circles around him. _

_"Come out; come out . . . wherever you are!"_

_Donatello knelt and held his breath, confusion etching deep lines on his face._

_Without warning, a door immediately in front of him opened, bathing him in light. He blinked rapidly at the harsh invasion and when his eyes cleared, he saw Raphael smiling at him._

_But, it wasn't the Raphael he had just seen. Instead, it was a young Raphael, who was only about 8 years old._

_"I found you!" Raph's eyes glittered in excitement. "Geez, Donnie . . . you couldn't find a better spot?"_

_Donatello pushed himself from his knees and took a hesitant step out into the light. Looking around, he recognized the Lair and the closet in the living room that he had been hiding in. He looked down at his hands . . ._

_His own 8 year old hands. _

_Hide and seek was the brother's favorite game. When they were young, Splinter never allowed them to leave the safety of the Lair, so they occupied their time finding new and innovative hiding places._

_He stared in silence until Raphael's laughter broke his concentration. "You okay there, Donnie? You look like you've seen a ghost."_

_Donatello snapped his head up and looked into the smiling face of his brother. Looking at Raph smiling, he felt a weight being lifted from his shoulders. Slowly, a smile stretched across his own features. "I'm fine . . ."_

_Raph's eyes glittered. "Good . . .cuz you're It!" He swatted Donnie's shoulder lightly before turning and running from the room. Donnie laughed, reveling in his new found feeling of freedom. He watched as Raph's shell disappeared around the corner. Slowing to a walk, Donnie tiptoed to the corner and counted to three silently. "You can't get away from me that easily!" Donnie called before he jumped out into the open . . . _

_And stopped dead in his tracks._

_He was standing on a rooftop, the wind blowing gently against his face in the night sky. A teenaged Raph stood at the edge of the roof, a few hundred yards away. A mischievous look crossed his face. "Then, come and get me, slowpoke!" Raphael took off, flipping over the edge of one roof and landing gracefully on the top of another._

_Ninja tag._

_Splinter had made up the game when they were young teenagers. It was a chance to get out, practice their ninja skills, and have fun at the same time. Donatello could take it or leave it, but it was Raph's favorite thing to do. He could get out some energy and aggression all while enjoying the open air. _

_Donnie took a running start toward the edge of the roof. He felt strong and agile. More so than he'd felt in a long time. His legs were youthful once again as they when he was younger. Raph was quickly disappearing a few buildings away. Donnie laughed as he pushed himself harder, jumping quickly and lively high above the alleyways. He felt his worries and cares slip away as the wind whipped past his head. It blocked out all sound, and he allowed himself to slip into a more relaxed state. Raphael was a figure far into the distance, but Donatello felt nothing but peace as he chased him across the rooftops._

_Shutting his eyes, he let himself go, wishing to live like this forever. He felt free . . . able to accomplish anything. And his brother was by his side once more._

_He heard someone yell. His eyes snapped open so suddenly, he stumbled as his feet hit the rooftop. His heart beat heavily inside of his chest as the yell hit his ears again. Raphael was nowhere in sight anymore. Fear returned and he pushed himself to run even faster. Flying, he threw himself across to another building._

_He could see shapes in the distance. But, it wasn't just Raphael anymore. Dozens of shapes occupied the rooftop of a building. With one building to go, Donnie's adrenaline took over. It pulsed through his veins and propelled him forward. He landed, hard, on his hands and knees. Wincing, his breathing coming in ragged gasps, he looked up just to see Raphael launch himself toward Michelangelo._

_"Mikey, move!_

_His red-masked brother knocked Mikey to the side. Mikey landed awkwardly. But Raphael wasn't watching. Instead, he was looking incredulously at his shoulder. His shoulder that now housed a small needle topped with a yellow puff of feathers._

_Donnie felt his blood run cold as all emotions came flooding back._

_He was back at the rooftop fight between the Dragons a week ago . . . back when the nightmare started. _

_"No, no, no, no, no, no, no . . ." It was the only thing he could think of to say. _

_He watched with tears in his eyes as Raph stumbled, the tranquilizer working fast. _

_His knees still sore, he crawled clumsily to Raph's side. Raph's face was already ashen, his breathing ragged. _

_He shouldn't look like this already . . . it was too fast._

_Donnie looked down at his brother, his tears spilling over. He had already forgotten the feeling of freedom that he had just felt. His tears dripped onto Raphael's face, causing his waxy features to glow in the moonlight._

_"Please . . ." His voice was only a whisper. He grabbed Raphael's arms and pulled himself closer. Burying his face against Raph's plastron, he struggled for words through his sobbing._

_"Donatello doesn't cry . . ."_

_Donnie gasped at the sudden voice. Looking up, he was now sitting in Raphael's room, right where he had last seen him. The bed was empty and Donatello's heart plummeted. He looked around in a panic._

_"What are you looking for?"_

_The voice sounded again and Donnie spun around. _

_Raphael was leaning, nonchalantly against the wall, his arms folded characteristically across his plastron. He was vibrant and healthy once more, a half smile stretched across his face._

_Donnie gaped, a loss for words._

_"What? For once you don't have anything to say?" Donnie's mouth moved, but nothing came out. Raph smiled softly. "It's okay . . . I'm the one that needs to do some talking."_

_Donatello knit his eyebrows together in confusion._

_"I needed to say thank you."_

_Donnie finally found his voice. "Thank you?"_

_"Yeah. Thank you . . . for everything."_

_Donnie felt his face whiten as the words registered. "No . . ." It was a whisper . . . a plea. "No, please . . ."_

_Raph cut him off with a slight wave of his hand. "It's okay. I just needed to say thank you . . . and I wanted you to feel happiness like we did when we were younger."_

_Donnie wasn't even aware of his head shaking back and forth. "No . . . I can still help you. You can't give up." Tears spilled over his eyes and fell down his cheeks._

_"I'm not giving up, little brother. There's just nothing more that you can do."_

_"Yes . . . yes there is. I can figure something out."_

_Raph shut his eyes as he shook his head slowly from side to side. "No, there's not. And I know that you are going to blame yourself. Don't . . . please. That's why I chose to see you one last time."_

_Sobs wracked Donatello's body. He looked at the floor, not wanting to believe the words that he was hearing._

_Raphael took a step forward and pulled Donnie into his arms. Donnie fell into him, gripping at his arms, unwilling to let go. Raph stroked Donnie's head gently as he quietly shushed him._

_"It'll be okay. You did everything that you could . . ." Raph's words were a whisper against Donnie's ear. "Tell everyone that we all fought hard . . . and thank them . . . for everything." He gently took Donnie's face in his hands and looked into his eyes. "We'll all be together again . . . I promise."_

_Donnie shook his head, his vision blurring._

_Raphael smiled and wiped away a stray tear that fell from Donnie's eye. Donnie closed his eyes at Raph's touch._

_"I love you . . ."_

_It was like a whisper, winding gently into the night. Donnie opened his eyes and suddenly felt more empty than he'd even felt before. He was alone._

_Raphael was gone._

_Taking a deep breath, Donatello mustered all of the strength that he had left before whispering into the darkness. "I love you, too . . ."_

Donatello woke to Michelangelo's scream. As he picked his head up from his desk, everything came back to him, and he knew without even getting up that Raphael was gone.

He felt empty as he looked around his disheveled room, but oddly, he also felt a sense of peace. He could still feel Raph's light touch against his cheek and his strong arms around him. He remembered the dream that he had just encountered, and he couldn't help but smile slightly.

But then he thought of his family and the hurt that they were feeling right now.

Pushing himself up to a standing position, time seemed to drag as he forced his feet to move. He had barely made it a few feet into the hallway before he saw Leonardo. Leo was leaning heavily against the wall, staring blankly at the floor. He looked up as Donnie got closer, his eyes blank and lifeless.

Donnie could see Leo attempting to muster strength as he straightened. Immediately, Donnie reached out and pulled Leo against his body. "I know . . ." he whispered lightly to his leader. Leo relaxed under his grip, sobs shaking his shoulders. Donnie held him silently.

Finally, Leonardo straightened. "How?" His voice cracked as he wiped his eyes hastily.

Donnie smiled as he remembered the dream again. "I'll tell you later."

Leo didn't ask any questions. Instead, he simply nodded silently. Walking back toward the wall, he bent and picked something up from the floor. He walked the couple of steps back to Donnie and held it out to him. "We found this in Raph's room . . . there was one for each of us." His voice cracked again, and he immediately turned his face from his younger brother.

Donatello reached out and grabbed a small white envelope from Leo's hands. On the outside, his name was printed in Raph's writing.

His heart beat wildly in his chest as he slid his finger underneath the flap. Opening it, he pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it. Raph's writing stared back at him. It was just like his hot-headed brother: angry and meticulous. Slowly, his eyes skimmed the words, his brother's voice coming through clearly.

Donnie,

If you're reading this, it means that I didn't make it. First and foremost, I don't want you to blame yourself . . . because I know that's what you are going to do. This is nobody's fault. I know that you did everything that you could. I know this, because I trust you . . . you are my brother, forever. No matter what happens to any of us, this will never change. Remember the good times . . . I know I will. I'm sorry for anything I've done to hurt you. You know that it was never intentional. Thank you for saving my shell so many times before. And thank you for just being you. You are amazing and I am going to miss you terribly. But, we'll all be together again. I promise. Help Mikey and Leo understand this, too. I'm sorry that this had to happen so soon. Change is inevitable. But, forever is only a short distance away. All my love . . . always.

Raph

Tears fell from Donnie's eyes, blurring the last lines of Raphael's letter. But, he felt tranquility through them. Raph's words hurt, but they were true. Change is inevitable. It wouldn't be easy, but they could do it . . . As a family. Now, it was time to begin counting the days until Forever.

_A/N: First and foremost I would like to apologize for the time in between chapters. I swore that I would not be one of those authors that doesn't update in nearly 6 months. But, I had a REALLY hard time writing this chapter. I tried many different endings, and inevitably, it just felt right the way that it ended up. It was difficult to write, but it's finally done. I want to thank all of you who stuck through from the beginning. You really mean a lot to me. I promise, from this point on, I will update new stories much earlier :) Thanks again for all of the support and words of encouragement. _


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